Wedding Dress
by Rosaliebyrd13
Summary: Jacob promised he'd be there until her heart stopped beating. A story of friendship, difficult decisions, and a wedding dress. It's never too late. ONESHOT please read and review.


_He promised that he'd always be there, up until the moment her heart stops beating. What would've happened had Jacob shown up in time before the ceremony_.

~*^*~*^*%~

Bella is dressed in white.

She is dressed in white, her hair is that odd color between brown and red (that perfectly _her _color, the way it looked on the beach, in the sun), and she is wearing makeup.

It's odd. She looks beautiful, heart stopping, but then again she's always looked that way to you. It's odd because she is beautiful, but not the kind of beautiful you're used to seeing on her. This beautiful is commercially enhanced. Airbrushed.

You've always thought she looked beautiful because her cheeks were _naturally_ pink, her eyelashes _naturally_ dark and thick. (All those days on the beach, hanging out, sometimes laughing, sometimes silent.

She danced with you that night at the bonfire, remember? You'd never felt closer to another being in your life.)

Maybe it's a trick of the light. Maybe it's all those stupid romantic hopes you thought you'd ripped out of yourself months ago. But she looks faintly green against the white of her dress.

_Wedding dress_, a voice in the back of your mind whispers. _You can't forget that it's her wedding dress_.

~*^*%~*^*~

You didn't expect him to show up.

Charlie's had you taping up lost boy posters for weeks now, Billy's been blaming you for his missing son for a while now, and that is exactly why you didn't expect to see him standing in front of you today.

The pack's been ignoring you and you've been calling Seth every day for news about him (please, Seth, tell me he's back, or healthy at least. _Sorry Bella, not today_). He's been gone for months, but now he's back, finally he's back.

Today of all days.

Jake doesn't look so good. His hair's a bit shaggier than the last time you saw him, and he's got a fair amount of stubble along a strong jawline. (_He's only sixteen_, you have to remind yourself. _Sixteen_.)

"Hey Bells,"

Suddenly you don't feel too good. Your stomach's churning and the corset of your dress is _too tight_.

_Wedding dress_, you tell yourself_. It's a wedding dress. Jeezus._

"Jake," You choke out, and you hope he hears it. You know he heard it, but you hope he _hears_ it. Hears the joy and the shock and the terror that might just be pre- wedding jitters (but right now feels like the most afraid you've ever been in your entire life).

You really want to collapse, but you're in _the dress_ and Alice has commanded that you _cannot sit down_.

So instead you steady yourself, and try not to weep like some character in an Austen novel (how many times did you wish you were a character in an Austen novel?)

"I guess I'm cutting it kind of close aren't I?" He looks like he wants to grab you, but you can see him holding himself back. You can also see him trying to make light of a very dire situation.

You don't think you can breathe without projectile vomiting (something Austen's characters _never_ do), so instead you settle for an inelegant, jerky nod.

He seems to understand your inability to speak, and so he fills the silence (like he did when you first came to him with a broke down set of motorcycles and a broke down heart). "Sorry, Bells. I sorta lost track of time there for a while."

He's talking like this is normal, what's about to happen. He's talking like he's just been out of town, like she's not about to marry his mortal enemy and then _become_ his mortal enemy. He's talking like she's not eighteen and like she hasn't got her whole life ahead of her.

She envies him for that ability to pretend.

~*^*~*%^*~

It's not a trick of the light. Bella really is a bit green. And she's clutching the bathroom counter top like she's gonna keel over any second.

She's also really glad to see you. You can see it in her eyes, (warm, brown, _human_) the relief and terror and …

that other emotion you can't bear to name.

It suddenly occurs to you how _young_ she looks.

Eighteen. Eighteen and getting married to a blood sucking monster who plans to keep her eighteen for the rest of eternity.

(Your heart aches when you think about how beautiful she would look with laugh lines around her eyes, how perfect she would be at the front of a class room or working as a cook in some high end restaurant.)

(Very secretly you imagine how beautiful she would look pregnant, glowing.)

It makes you mad, to picture her older to picture her living the rest of her life (it doesn't matter if she's with you, just that she's _alive_) while she stands in front of you in her wedding dress, planning to do exactly the opposite.

It makes you mad and you have to tell her, _now_.

"Bella," You say, "Bella, I have to let you know… before you do this please—" She interrupts you, but you refuse to let her stop you again. "Bella, I know you."

You look into her eyes and you know, just know that there's no going back, ever.

"I know you. I know your favorite flower, and I know your favorite candy. I know which swear word you like best and I know your favorite book, favorite character even."

You reach forward to grab her hand. It is soft and small.

"I know you like tin roofs and sunny days, that you like chick flicks and country music, and that if you could, you'd ride around the country in a travel trailer and write down all the stories you come across to save for later."

Her eyes are watering up, her nose becoming red, but you can't stop yourself. This is your last chance. _Last chance Jacob Black, make it count_.

"I know that you want a pet dog, that you miss your friends back in Phoenix, and that when you were little you wanted to be a gypsy." You clutch her little hand between yours and you pray to every higher power you know of to _please let her hear you, listen to you_.

"Isabella, I know you." The words are fierce, but you need them to be. "Isabella I know you, and I know that if you had it your way you'd never get married. I know that were it up to you there would be no dress and no diamonds. I know that if you had your choice you would get married by Elvis if you really had to. You want to know why I know all this?"

She nods, and tears finally start to fall, dripping down her nose despite her desperate sniffing. It only makes her more beautiful.

"I know this because I've spent most of my life getting to know you. I know all this because I'm your best friend, because I pay attention. I didn't learn it during some game of 20 questions; I've spent years talking to you and laughing with you and growing up with you."

You remember what she told you once, about when she and the leech first started talking. You remember her saying that the getting-to-know-you phase of their relationship had been covered during two days of constant question asking.

You hate that he only took two days to learn everything about her, and you've taken years.

Bella's tears are falling faster now, and you feel the pressure behind your own eyes, of tears that you need to shed for the loss of the only girl you'll ever love. In her eyes (still brown despite the redness, still human) you see not joy, or resentment or regret.

Instead you see the look that says _Jacob, I'm stuck_.

Before you can stop them, the words are out of your mouth.

"Bella, once upon a time you offered to run away with me. Now I'm going to return the favor." You've never been that good at reading other people's faces, but you know Bella, and she knows you.

She knows exactly what you're going to say, and she doesn't stop you.

"Run away with me Bella."

~*%^*~*^*~

"Run away with me Bella."

The world is spinning too fast. The corset of the dress is too tight. Jacob's hands are too warm. Your nose is too runny.

From downstairs, wisps of music float up. The wedding march. You don't know what it's actually called, but what you do know is that you hate it more than any other piece you've ever heard.

You are eighteen. You are eighteen, born of parents who married too young because they had to. You are eighteen and you've been to five states in your entire life. You are eighteen and the only time you've ever been out of the country was to rescue a boy (vampire) who left you alone in the middle of the woods on a cold and rainy night to protect you.

Eighteen is not when rational people get married. Eighteen is when rational people get drunk and smoke and experiment with drugs and have unprotected sex and Dammit you don't actually want to do much of that but you at least want the _choice._

Eighteen is only two years older than sixteen.

"Yes." You hear the voice, and you're not sure if you're entirely in control of what you say, but you do know that when your voice answers without your permission, it's time to listen.

"Yes, Jacob Black, yes I will run away with you."

~*^*~%*^*~

She's still in her wedding dress when you pass the state line hours later.

California is sunny, beautiful, but it's not your final destination.

Really you're not entirely sure where that destination is. (You're on auto pilot, which is a wonderful thing when you're pretending that it's totally normal to run away with your best friend at her own wedding.)

Beside you Bella seems to be in a similar predicament. She hasn't really asked many questions, just made idle small talk as you drive to Lord Knows Where in the car that you rebuilt yourself almost six months ago.

It's surreal, what's happening. Surreal and wonderful and so _awesome_.

Beside you Bella leans her head out the window and smiles into the breeze that whips her once professionally styled hair into a glorious, curly frenzy. (You want to warn her about getting bugs in her mouth, but you don't want to ruin her bliss. Instead you drive faster and watch her smile wider.)

You didn't actually expect her to say yes. In fact you didn't actually plan on asking her. But now that she's here you're on cloud nine, as high as you can get and you don't care if this only lasts a week or three days before she's back with the mosquito.

She's with _you_ right now.

~*^*~%*^*~

The first thing you panic about is money. (Jacob is driving the Rabbit, a car that doesn't have a glove box let alone wads of just-in-case cash in the glove box.)

The next thing you worry about is the dress. (It's the only clothing you have with you, and you send a silent apology to Alice for sitting down in it.)

And then you worry about your fiancée (ditched at the alter for his mortal enemy) coming after you, tracking you down. You're not so worried about him finding you, what you really dislike is the idea of letting him down.

(What you really dislike is knowing that he's going to make you feel _so guilty_.)

The first problem is solved when Jake shows you the wad of bills earned from a semi- steady job as a mechanic. (It's enough to buy you a room at a really seedy motel, which is why it's perfect.

_Edward would have never let you stay at a place like that_.)

The second problem is solved by a quick trip to goodwill. (The t-shirt smells a little funky and the long, gypsy/flower-child skirt has seen better days, but they're perfect.

_Alice would have cried to see you dressed like this_.)

The third problem is not necessarily fixed. It simply ceases to be a problem when you realize (suddenly giddy and sick with the discovery that) Alice _cannot see werewolves_.

(Giddy because they can't find you unless you want them to.

Sick because what kind of person are you to leave them clueless in the middle of wedding guests in the middle of a small town full of gossipers?)

Jake asks what you're giggling over, he looks three parts dazed, one part troubled, six parts light _and so Jacob like it hurts._ (When did he stop looking sixteen? Why have you only noticed it now that he looks more his age?)

You immediately vow to memorize him the way he's memorized you.

~*^*~*%^*~

She looks practically over joyed with the clothing you picked out at the goodwill.

She looks ecstatic when she sees the motel you can afford.

You don't quite understand (just like you don't quite understand what finally _finally_ made her listen to you), but you go along with it because God Be Praised she looks like an eighteen year old, doing eighteen year old type things.

In the room she announces that she needs your help undressing. Your heart swells a bit and you can feel something pulsating deep inside you that tells you to romance her like you know you can.

But you hold yourself back, and say "Sure." Because that's what best friends do when they've just helped the girl they've always been in love with escape her own wedding to their mortal enemy.

The dress comes off first, and it still holds Bella's shape, even lying on the crusty motel bed. Underneath is a corset _dear Lord almighty_ and a fine pair of stockings held up by some type of belt and clips, lacy white underwear and a _garter_…

It's a good thing you've watched a lot of porn, otherwise you wouldn't know where to start unbuckling.

She doesn't seem to be shy around you, just motions for you to turn around as she makes her way down to the essential underwear as she calls it. Next thing you know, and she's in an old tee-shirt found in the floorboards of the Rabbit.

Together you crawl into the slightly moist motel bed.

She lays on her right side and you do the same on your left, mirroring her propped head on hand. For a moment you just stare into her eyes (brown, warm, and so human you could cry).

And then she tells you why she's finally decided to listen.

~*^*~%*^*~

"I am eighteen years old." Jake already knows this (he knows you), but you feel like you need to say that. Because it's essential to what's going on in your head right now. "I'm eighteen and I want to be eighteen."

He nods, and so you tell him about everything you want to experience. You tell him about every choice you want to make and every bad road you want to drive down. He listens (and he is so _human_ when he does this, flinching and cursing and _reacting_) and he lets you say it all. He listens even when you tell him all the reasons you want to be a vampire, and then he listens to all the reasons you never want to have to make that choice.

He understands when you tell him that eighteen year olds shouldn't think in terms of forever, and you think that he understands simply because sixteen year olds shouldn't be thinking in terms of forever either.

(Edward was never just seventeen, he was a hundred something and wise and always thought about forever. That's why he didn't understand, you suppose.)

He holds you while you yell about how angry it makes you that he left. You yell that you hate being so easy to leave, why does every body leave? And he doesn't blame you _not even a little bit _for wanting to be the one to leave for once.

And in the end you're in the same position you started in, but holding hands, and you tell him the hardest part of all:

That you're not sure whether this feeling of needing to leave is permanent or if it's just cold-feet-pre-wedding-jitters. You're not sure how long this rebellion of yours will last.

You don't want to hurt him, so you tell him this, warn him that in a few days you could be back to pining away for the vampire boyfriend/fiancée/ whatever.

"That's okay Bells." He says, and his hands squeeze tightly around yours. "I'm just so glad you're…"

There aren't words for it. She understands that, and so she doesn't make him finish.

~*^*%~*^*~

They go to sleep that night (still holding hands) with an understanding:

He understands that this isn't permanent, that she can't promise emotional stability _right now_, and that she has reserved the right to change her mind whenever she damn so pleases _so there_.

She understands that life will be hard, and that if she does end up staying she will get worry lines as well as laugh lines.

And they both understand that before they leave town in the morning, they will sell the wedding dress.

!*!

**AN: So this is what I imagine happening when Bella is a normal eighteen year old girl about to get married, and when Jacob has far better timing. **

**Hope you like. **

**Please review!**


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